


The Age of Pretenders

by Cira



Series: Rebirth of the Machine Empire [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Emphasis On Slow Burn, Identity Reveal, In This House We Love Galactic Politics, Lovers to Enemies to Something, M/M, Manipulation, Mpreg, Past Betrayals, Past Relationship(s), Planet Naboo (Star Wars), Politics, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Post-TLJ, Rebuilding the First Order, Seriously So Many Politics, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Kylo Ren, Unplanned Pregnancy, Using Your Family Legacy to Get What You Want, intergalactic politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2019-06-17 15:52:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15464865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cira/pseuds/Cira
Summary: With the First Order on the mend, Kylo knows he has to do more than simply wage war to unite a fractured galaxy under his banner, and if that means using the ghosts of his mother's dead planet and the royal blood that flows through his veins, then so be it.  Yet the new Supreme Leader has many secrets to both wield and protect--and one false move runs the risk of exposing the most vital one of them all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was absolutely blown away by all the positive feedback that _On the Folding of Space_ received. There really are no words to describe how much that meant, and how much that feedback helped to shape the direction that this series was taking. On that note, special thanks to PapaFinch for a comment that actually helped to settle a bunch of things in my mind that I was torn over, and for making this series better, in my opinion, as a result. Thanks, too, to King_of_Hearts_129, who prompted me to write out a bunch of things I probably would have otherwise let sit in my brain and forgotten. And finally, thanks to escapebox, who inspired this whole thing in the first place, and for absolutely everyone who took the time to leave a response. Thanks to you, this fic has over 10k written, with more on the way.
> 
> This fic, unliking _Folding_ , is going to have multiple chapters--probably around three, but there's a strong chance that there will be more. For those just joining us, I would strongly recommend reading the first fic in the series, [On the Folding of Space](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217664), as it sets this fic and this AU up, but the premise is still "Kylo trying to bring the galaxy to heel while dealing with the fallout from his relationship with Hux, while secretly pregnant with Hux's child."

Legacy was a strange thing, Kylo thought to himself as he stood under the spray of his shower, the running water a luxury he had deemed acceptable in light of semi-recent discoveries.  Ben Solo had found it crushing, and even free of the name Kylo Ren had been burdened by the same expectations he thought he had outran the night he’d forcefully severed his connections to his family.  He had been wrong, and Kylo wondered if a day would come when the legacies of his family, the legacies that he had originally intended to end with him, would ever leave him well enough alone.

Alone, Kylo let himself wonder what his own child would now be expected to shoulder, courtesy of his actions, and he cursed himself for the weakness of his own indecision, for the hesitance that had allowed the child to grow this much, to the point where Kylo could no longer be rid of it without feeling a horrible emptiness where the fledgling bond he shared with the babe lay.  It would have been better for the child, far more merciful, if Kylo had aborted the pregnancy when he’d first learned of it, but it was too late for it now, and since he could no more part with the babe, his growing _son_ , than he could with the tattered remnants of his own past, Kylo knew that only one choice remained.  Legacies were shit, Kylo knew, and he could not rely on them for _anything,_ but he could use them, if he must.

_Everything I have, everything I am and do, is for you now,_ he thought, tipping his head into the spray, feeling the water cascade down his body, gliding over the slight rounding of his abdomen that housed his son.  He would protect the child, and pray it would be enough to keep the babe safe, to stop history from repeating itself.  For all their vaulted legacies, for all the generations of royal and noble bloods in their veins and the unlimited resources at their disposal, Ben Solo’s family had failed him.  One by one, blinded by their own selfishness, their own struggles, they'd been unwilling to see the danger that had preyed on the boy from his first breaths and, once they’d known of it, they'd been equally unwilling to do anything about it until it had been far, far too late.

He would not be so blind.  He would die before letting another creature like Snoke in, would die before his own ignorance and blindness turned his son into a target.  Kylo knew what was out there, and he would build an empire to keep his son safe.  The ways of the Sith were selfish, but so were the ways of a Jedi, and so Kylo would walk a path seldom tread, and would utilize everything at his disposal to achieve his goals.

He could not afford to do any less.

 

* * *

  

That Hux was a wrench in his plans was undeniable.  The man was not yet aware of the secrets that lay beneath Kylo’s dark robes, and Kylo hoped to keep him in the dark yet by eventually removing the belt around his midsection and loosening the fabrics he wore so that they would better hide the growing bump from the man who had been half the cause of it.

_Would it pain him_ , Kylo wondered bitterly as he watched Hux walk the length of the _Harbinger’s_ bridge, trying to ignore the ache in his chest that threatened to blossom into something all-consuming every time Hux’s sharp eyes strayed anywhere near him, _would it pain him to know that his child, too, will be born a bastard?_

“The supplies have been loaded, General, and we are beginning preparations to break orbit,” one of the lieutenants was saying, and Kylo watched as Hux turned, hands tight behind his back, voice sharp and commanding as he requested an ETA that was swiftly given.

He remembered, with a pang, that sharp voice softening in the dark, crooning sweet lies into his ear, and even though he was supposed to be past the nausea phase of his pregnancy, Kylo felt his stomach churn anyway.  The Jedi had had techniques for dealing with strong emotions, ways to release them into the Force, but Kylo had never been able to master it, had never been able to separate himself from the maelstrom that seemed to churn inside his soul at all times.  He loathed himself for that failure now, and when Hux met his gaze head-on, he fought the instinct to bare his neck as he had before.

_He would have killed you,_ Kylo reminded himself as he turned away and made to leave the bridge.  _He would have killed you both._

He felt Hux’s eyes on his back until at last the doors slid shut behind him, and wondered when that knowledge would finally make the bitter longing in his heart cease.

 

* * *

 

They kept Ossus’ true purpose a secret from the greater First Order, and Hatice Ren, with her keen mind, had sat down with Kylo and looked over other potential planets to establish bases, her heavily accented voice soothing as they poured over the flood of statistics collected by the First Order.

“There should be two,” she murmured, eyes flicking up as she pointed her claw-like nails at one of the rotating planets on the viewing platform, looking oddly regal in her dark robes.  “The Republic, they make the mistake of one system, and now it is destroyed.”  She made a vaguely disgusted noise, and Kylo cocked his head to the side, waiting for her to continue, as he knew she would.  After a moment, she scoffed, her ears twitching in agitation and her sharp teeth momentarily bared in an aggressive display.  Looking at her, Kylo had no trouble believing that her species, the Zygerrians, were known for their long, violent history.  “It was not supposed to be centralized, and yet they scatter as though hundreds of worlds did not feed into that stagnant beast.  They are pathetic, too scared to declare in favour of anyone, and we will do better.”

Kylo hummed, then stood, ignoring the way his knees protested the movement. He’d woken this morning feeling sore and swollen all over, but he hadn’t let it get in the way of his training, nor would he let it get in the way of this.  “Earlier intelligence suggested that the First Order could take the Core Worlds in a matter of weeks,” he said, bringing up a new area map and studying it intently, “but news of the destruction of the _Supremacy_ has spread, and some of them are choosing now to grow a backbone.  There is some resistance growing on planets in the Mid Rim too, and the Inner Rim, including Onderon, which raises the risk of resistance fighters using the unexplored spaces and major trade routes to outmanoeuvre us.  We have to move fast to secure Coruscant and Corellia, and ensure the others will fall in line.”

Hatice frowned.  “We can crush them,” she said impulsively, her amber eyes narrowing, and Kylo had to smile faintly at the fierce way she said it, nails clicking against the viewing platform.

“We can,” Kylo agreed, “but they will fight us.  The New Republic didn’t learn from the fall of the old, and we can’t afford not to learn from the fall of the Empire.  They’ll fight.  Eventually, they’ll always fight.”

_And then we’ll be right back to nothing_ was the unspoken sentiment, and they both fell silent, digesting it.  Warfare wasn’t enough, not anymore.  They had destroyed an entire star system and killed billions with one stroke, and it hadn’t been enough, nor was it something the other worlds would simply forget.  A war was brewing, and if they weren’t careful, it would erupt, and they could not afford to be foolish and continue a large-scale war, going from planet to planet and siphoning their resources, leaving naught but an empty husk.  It wasn't sustainable.  They had to seize what remained of the window left to them by Starkiller’s one bitter success and fill the power vacuum it had created, not just through military force.

Kylo grimaced, closing his eyes.  They needed allies if they wanted this to work in the long run, they needed propaganda, _politics_ , and they needed it without becoming the Republic.  Kylo had no intent on running a democracy, not when it was impossible for one to run efficiently on such a large scale, but he could not come right out and simply declare himself the sole ruler of all their fleet touched, either.

But he had something else he could use, something he had spent years trying to erase, to deny.

“Alert General Hux,” he said, the knowledge of what he was about to suggest enough to put a snarl into his next words.  “There’s something we need to discuss with him.”

           

* * *

 

“The Prince of Alderaan,” Hux said stiffly, and though his voice was even, Kylo didn’t miss the way his hands clenched before he slipped them behind his back in a familiar stance that made something in Kylo’s chest ache.  “ _You_ , Kylo Ren, are telling us to find the last Prince of Alderaan.”

Kylo stood at the viewport, his eyes trained on the stars, thankful that the folds of his robes concealed, for now, the way his stomach was beginning to curve ever so slightly to accommodate the growth of the child nestled within. Hatice lingered nearby, her aggression kept firmly, though grudgingly, in check as she watched Hux with hostile, narrowed eyes.  Hux ignored her, but Kylo did not think even for a moment that the General was unaware of her sentiments towards him, or of the silent menace she exuded.  Slowly, Kylo turned his head, a warning, and she slunk further into the shadows, giving them the illusion of privacy.

“Ben Solo was the last Prince of Alderaan,” Kylo said at last.  _Another legacy he hadn’t wanted and been forced to carry._ Then he took a barely audible breath and forced himself to continue.  “Through his mother, he was a dead planet’s prince; through his father, the boy had distant connections to Corellian royalty.  His grandmother was once Queen of Naboo, and through the Skywalker line, he was the heir of Lord Vader.  The Elder Houses are not as powerful as they once were, but they still hold sway, and if we can show them Ben Solo, if we can show them that the son of the Republic’s great war heroes supports the First Order, we will win supporters.”

Hux surveyed him without word for a few moments, and Kylo didn’t need the Force to know that Hux was more than a little skeptical of the plan, and that he was frustrated by the very idea that they couldn’t simply conquer the Core Worlds and leave it at that.  Still, the General was a tactician, and Kylo trusted he would understand what needed to be done.  Hux’s mind had always been keen, and even if his subordinates disliked him, the man had gotten where he was due in no small part to his own machinations and plans.

“That might have worked were the boy not dead,” Hux said at last, causing Kylo to turn and meet his assessing gaze, pleased that the General was openly acknowledging the merits of the plan.  “To have such a powerful symbol on our side would go a long way towards ensuring the loyalties and the sympathies of many systems, but there is still the matter of the Hosnian System.”  Hux’s mouth twisted in disgust, not at the lives he had destroyed with his weapon—Kylo knew Hux felt little remorse for that, and he wondered if that would have changed had Hux been able to feel such large-scale death through the Force, as Kylo himself had when the deed was done, _billions_ of voices screaming out in slow motion before being abruptly silenced—but at the fact that Starkiller no longer existed to utilize as a threat.  “We are not loved, Supreme Leader.”

Kylo and his Knights had anticipated that response.  “Then we tell them that Starkiller was Snoke’s idea,” Kylo said flatly. “He was a powerful dark Force-user, and he wanted to surpass the weapon created by his predecessor.  We tell them it was Snoke, and we assure them that we are distancing ourselves from his legacy under new leadership following a coup against Snoke for the brutality of his methods.  The birth of the Death Star was the Republic, General, and if we have Ben we can utilize him, play on that and his legacy as Alderaan’s last prince.  If they know him to be on our side, it lends credence to the idea that Snoke was the one behind the destruction of the Hosnian system, and that now that he is gone, we are trying to achieve our goals without more large-scale death.”

Hux grimaced, likely at the thought of his achievements going yet again to Snoke.  “Even if we managed that Organa’s son hasn’t been seen in years.  What cause do you have to think that he even lives, or that he would help us if the whelp still somehow draws breath?”

Kylo let the silence drag between them, but Hux held his ground, refusing to appear as anything other than cool and collected.  Once, Kylo had admired and hated him in equal measures for it. Now, all he felt was resentful exhaustion.

“He’s not dead,” Kylo said at last, the words a bitter half-truth on his tongue, a betrayal of everything he had sworn to himself back on Ossus, and for a moment he found his tongue to be tied, the words that he needed to speak trapped in his throat as his hands twitched at his side.  He ran his tongue over the backs of his teeth and hissed out a calming breath, and for a moment he thought he saw a flicker of something old in Hux’s eyes, there one second and gone the next.  “Leia Organa’s son survived the fall of Skywalker’s New Jedi Order, alongside six others of the dead organization, but only in a sense.”  He redirected his gaze to catch Hatice’s eye.  Her ears had flattened against her head, but she straightened when Kylo looked at her and pressed a hand carefully against her chest, bowing ever-so-slightly.  She may have disagreed with revealing this information to the General, he knew, but she would follow his lead.  They needed Hux on their side at least for the moment.

“Ben Solo was the one who destroyed Skywalker the first time, when he woke up to see his uncle standing over him with a drawn weapon.  He brought down the entire academy and escaped with those six other Padawans.”  And this time, when Kylo met Hux’s eyes, Hux sucked in a breath, green eyes eyes narrowing and his entire body tensing.  Kylo smiled, a nasty thing that pulled at the scar that bisected his face.  “There you go, General.  Yes.  After they left, there was only one thing Ben could do, and Snoke brought what was left of him into the Unknown Regions and turned him into Kylo Ren.”

Kylo was only a couple centimetres taller than Hux, but he used them to his full advantage as he loomed over the General, whose eyes were frantically scanning his exposed face—searching for a resemblance between Kylo and Organa, no doubt.  _Well_ , Kylo thought, drawing back and turning his head again, _he won’t have to search hard to find it_.  He wondered how Hux felt knowing he had looked into Leia Organa’s eyes as he fucked her son: Ben Solo, the last Prince of Alderaan; Ben Solo, grandson of Padme Amidala, Queen of Naboo; Ben Solo, son of Han Solo, of distant relation to the Corellian crown; Kylo Ren, heir apparent to Lord Vader, Supreme Leader of the First Order.

Kylo, the mother-father of the son Hux had planted in him, the bastard child of a bastard.

At last, after what felt like hours, Hux exhaled, but this time Kylo didn’t miss the flicker of emotion that appeared in otherwise ice-cold eyes, something he didn’t trust himself to read into, not anymore, not when he had swallowed everything Hux had spoken to him without thought only months before out of a desperate need to be loved, accepted.  He didn’t know if Hux felt betrayed by this information, but part of Kylo hoped he did, hoped Hux was experiencing something similar to what Kylo had felt waking on the floor of the _Supremacy_ ’ _s_ throne room to a blaster half out of its holster.

“Hatice,” Kylo murmured then, not looking away from Hux, “a moment, if you please?”

She almost disobeyed.  He could feel her hackles rising at the request, her instincts warring with the silent oath they had all taken when Kylo had first become Master of the Knights of Ren, and reaffirmed on the death of Snoke, of Fiach, on the ascension of Kylo as Supreme Leader, and finally upon being told the news that he carried a child in his belly.  It was that last one that made her especially loathe to leave the room, Kylo knew, with many of her senses different and more heightened from most of his other Knights, but eventually, after a visible war with herself, she flattened her ears again and withdrew, though Kylo knew she wouldn’t go far—was likely lurking just outside of the door to this particular conference room.

Still, she left, and Hux stood still, sharp eyes never wavering from Kylo’s form, tracing every minute move Kylo made.

“You hate me now for keeping this from you, but did you hate me then?” Kylo said at last, and the only thing that kept him from mirroring Hux’s parade rest was the knowledge that it would draw emphasis to the changes in his body, changes he could not let Hux be aware of, not for as long as he could prevent it. “The whole time, Hux, did you hate me? Were you using me?”

“Ren—”

“Answer me!” Kylo snarled, the anger bubbling up hot and fast as he turned and slammed a fist against the viewport, breathing heavily.  It was as if a switch had been flipped, and suddenly it was as though he could feel every change in his body, every ounce of soreness, every single moment of betrayal and anguish he had felt since the Force had warned him of Hux’s murderous intent all those months ago.  He thrust one hand out instinctively, but while Hux didn’t flinch, Kylo could see the muscles in his neck twitch, and that, coupled with the soreness now overwhelming him, prompted him to drop the hand.

Suddenly, he didn’t want to hear whatever it was Hux had to say, but he had opened the door; he wasn’t about to close it now.

“I know you were going to kill me, Hux,” he said, exhaustion creeping into his voice, and he clenched his jaw in irritation at his own weakness as he felt his eyes mist up, determinedly looking away, back out at the stars.  “So answer me: that whole time, is that what you were planning?  To use me until you had whatever it was you wanted, and then execute me once I had done what you wanted?”

Hux was silent, but then, one simple word, almost hushed, “Yes.”

Kylo had known it, but the confirmation was still like a punch to the throat, and he exhaled in a wet, ragged rush, pain creeping from his chest out all the way to the ends of his fingers.  Once, not too long ago, he might have turned the Force against Hux for that admission, and perhaps he should have snapped the General’s neck right then and there.  He was sure it was what Vader would have done, knew it was what Snoke would have done, but something stayed his hands, which he tried desperately to keep from shaking even as his body felt as though it were going to cave in on itself.

_Weak_.

“Ren, listen, I—”

“No, General,” Kylo cut in, and this time his voice was monotone, almost numb, knowing that if he listened to whatever Hux had to say, there was a possibility that he would expose more weaknesses to the man that he would regret. There was something almost akin to _desperation_ in Hux’s voice when the General tried to speak again, but Kylo merely brushed by him, knowing that whatever emotion Hux was feeling was motivated only by self-preservation.

The thought made him stop, and he closed his eyes before turning back with a soft _ah_ , and whatever Hux saw in his face made him pause, hand half-outstretched, almost pleading, had Hux been the type to truly plead.  Kylo’s mouth quirked into a sad smile as he took in the picture, and he let himself ache for what he’d once thought they had, and for the child created through those lies.

“Don’t worry, General,” he said, voice soft despite his resolution to harden himself against Hux.  It would come in time.  It must. “I won’t kill you, you have my word. You will remain as you are so long as you continue to work in the interests of the First Order, as I have no doubt you will, and I will leave the army for you to command.  We will be plotting a course for the Mid Rim, and once our business there is concluded we will make for the Core Worlds.”

“Ren, Kylo, _please_ —”

“General,” Kylo said firmly, a dismissal, but instead of waiting for Hux to leave Kylo turned away himself, sweeping towards the door, lacking the energy to even crack a smile when he spotted Hatice straightening immediately, as if she hadn’t been listening intently at the door, trying to figure out if she needed to intervene.

“He will do as ordered,” he told her as they began to walk down the corridors of the _Harbinger_ , putting more and more distance between themselves and Hux.

“You should not trust him,” Hatice cautioned.  “I feel his emotions even if you will not, and they are strong.  You should kill him, while the chance to do so is still present.”

Kylo sighed, lifting one hand to gently sweep over his stomach, disquieted by his need to feel it as often as he did.  “I can’t,” he said, letting the exhaustion seep into his tone.  “I killed Han Solo, and all that did was make me weaker. He cannot die, Hatice, not by my hand, or by any of yours.”  It was a statement as much as it was a warning, and he knew she was angry, and that that anger was more on his behalf than anything, but she merely gave him a sharp nod.  Kylo softened.  “You may watch him,” he said, and when she bared her sharp teeth in victory, he knew she was placated, at least for the moment.

It would do.

           

* * *

 

Out of all the things that had been lost when Starkiller was destroyed, Kylo felt the loss of his grandfather’s helmet most keenly.  He’d never received a response from it, or from the man who’d once inhabited it, for better or for worse, but speaking to it had helped some, and he’d found himself speaking of insecurities that he never would have given voice to otherwise.  Perhaps part of him had known he wouldn’t get a response, and that, therefore, the helmet could not judge him, but it had been a comfort regardless.  He had his Knights, of course he did, and he trusted them, but trusting them with his life was different than verbally baring his soul to them.

Not that there was much left of his soul worth showing, Kylo thought as he scrolled through the holonet almost absently, face half-lit by a spinning projection of Naboo produced by a datachip plugged into his desk.  Hux had sent his formal agreement to Kylo’s plan through to Kylo’s datapad just over an hour ago, and since then, Kylo had found himself restless, unable to sleep, replaying the conversation—the one-sided confrontation—in the conference room until he was almost dizzy with the effort.

He missed Hux, and the admittance of that felt like he’d taken a sledgehammer to a fragile, healing part of himself and shattered the foundations of recovery.

A wave of discomfort and nausea suddenly had Kylo gasping, but it passed in a few moments, leaving him feeling completely breathless, large hands having risen to feel the bump that, at almost twenty weeks, was smaller than it should have been, something the medical droids had said he shouldn’t worry about, that had something to do with the baby’s position, as well as Kylo’s physical build and athletic condition.  Whatever the reason, Kylo was grateful, as it meant he could perform his duties in the public eye for the moment, but he knew that, soon, that would no longer be an option. Still, the smaller bump tended to make him forget, sometimes, that the baby—that his _son_ —was at a period of development where he liked to _move_ , something Kylo could ignore while walking about and training, but that was harder to overlook while he had no real distractions.

Pulling his datapad close, Kylo ran a quick search, exhaling when the holonet cheerfully informed him that the sensation he felt was likely the baby _turning_ , of all things, and for a moment he let himself reach out, feeling his child through the Force, sifting through the unformed thoughts and content sensations, feeling a sudden chill.

“Was this the will of the Force?” he wondered aloud, gently rubbing the curve of his abdomen and trying not to think about how much nicer it would have been were the hands on his skin Hux’s instead of his own.  He felt tears stinging the corner of his eyes and, alone, without Snoke’s disapproving presence haunting the corners of his mind, he let them fall, his shoulders shaking as he tried to prevent even larger sobs.

He failed.

“Is this what you wanted from me?” he demanded of nothing, of everything, overwhelmed.  “Was this my purpose all along?”  The parents that had abandoned him, the mentors who had betrayed him, the child that shouldn’t have been possible, the love that hadn’t been real. He let out a hoarse shout, curling up on himself as much as he could with his distended abdomen in the way, before sobbing out the question that he had screamed at his parents as they left him with his uncle, the question he had asked himself as he and six other Padawans fled the ruins of Skywalker’s academy.

_Why?_

He had known, of course, that a child wasn’t truly impossible.  He still bled from the cunt he had never bothered to change, its continued existence a non-issue following the procedure that had left two large scars across his chest, following everything else he’d done to change and hone his body into something he could be proud of, the one thing about himself that he could _control_ , even once Snoke had sunk his claws firmly into his mind.  Yet he hadn’t believed himself to be in danger of conceiving, had eventually let Hux take him without a barrier between them, had relished in the feeling of Hux’s seed inside of him as he had relished in the sensation of being filled by Hux’s cock, scorched by Hux’s touch.

_“You’re sure, Ren?”_

_“Yes, stars, just fuck me, I want to feel you.”_

Kylo let out another hitched sob, muted by the material of the couch he had laid himself on. He had been foolish, buoyed by something that hadn’t been real.  Skywalker had once told Ben Solo that everything was the will of the Force, but the Force had never asked him.  He hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t wanted it, and still he’d let it happen anyway, had kept the child even when he could had been rid of it, because he could not stand to feel the emptiness where he’d once felt the babe’s mind.  He had left it too late, and so he would bear Hux’s child, and despite his oath on Ossus, in moments like this he couldn’t quite bring himself to decide if this was a blessing, something he wanted, or a curse.

“Grandfather,” he whispered into the silence of his room, teary eyes lifting at last to the projection of Naboo.  He wondered if this was how his grandmother had felt when she had learned she was pregnant with Anakin Skywalker’s child, the child of the husband she could not acknowledge.  Had she been as scared as he was now when her husband, the famed Jedi Knight, had become Lord Vader?  “Grandmother. Please, help me.”

But there was no response from either of them, and as Kylo gradually slipped off into an exhausted sleep, he decided he was imagining the cold, careful hands on his face, and the soothing whispers that blanketed him through the Force as he let the darkness take him at last.

 

* * *

 

“The child is healthy,” the medical droid chimed from Kylo’s bedside, its pre-programmed voice gentle as it showed him the progress of the ultrasound it was performing, though it tittered disapprovingly when Kylo propped himself up on his elbows to read them, temporary dislodging it.  The private, secluded room in the _Harbinger’s_ medbay had been an unusual inclusion, especially for a vessel this size, but Kylo had insisted on there being at least three when he’d been making changes to the ship’s design, for this exact purpose. They were en route to Naboo, Hux having given the order a few days ago after their supplies were replenished, but travel was slower than anticipated, and Hux hadn’t wanted to begin the journey without the _Finalizer_ accompanying them.

“It’s for our safety,” he had explained, his expression unusually tight. “They may not receive us with open arms, and I will not have the _Harbinger_ shot out of orbit.”

It was for security reasons that they were ignoring the more convenient hyperspace routes, stretching a journey that might’ve otherwise taken only a few days to upwards of a week, but if Kylo were honest, the delay, while bad for tactical purposes, was something of a relief, if only because he had more time before he resurrected Ben Solo in the eyes of galactic politics.

Organa would be so disappointed, he was sure, once she heard—and she _would_ hear of him using her own legacy against her, something that Kylo only regretted for his own sake and the sake of the babe, who would become associated with the family legacies by virtue of being the Supreme Leader’s child, even if Kylo made it clear that the burden of upholding them was his and his alone, not to be passed down onto an innocent boy the way it had been with him.  Organa would be disappointed in this, too, he thought as he beheld the babe through the medical droid’s projection, his face softening despite himself at the image of his son, who chose that moment to kick, as if he were determined to remind Kylo that he was there, that he was growing.  _Starkiller’s child_ , he thought before he could stop himself, _she would hate him for that._

Not that it mattered.  Hux would have no hand in raising the boy.  That was how it had to be.

The droid crooned something else, and Kylo settled back, letting the tension seep out of his body as he watched the projection.  There were things he had to do, operations he had to oversee, but for now he merely let himself watch his son as the babe moved around, every kick felt by Kylo in real time, a reminder of everything he was fighting for.

“Breathe,” the medical droid instructed, chirruping happily when Kylo complied without fuss.

_Yes, breathe.  For as long as you can, breathe._

The babe kicked again, and Kylo, despite himself, smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be _way_ more political, with plenty of machinations on the planet of Naboo. Your comments make my life and have absolutely helped shape the direction this series is going, so if you've enjoyed this piece, please consider leaving one here, or kudos at least if you're more comfortable with that. As always, if you have any questions and/or additional comments, please feel free to come speak to me on tumblr at [ciratonin.tumblr.com](http://ciratonin.tumblr.com)!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The delegation reaches Naboo, and Ben Solo makes his first debut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely satisfied with how this chapter came out, but, ah. It is what it is. Thank you for everyone who has reviewed so far--your feedback is insanely valuable to me, to the point where words cannot even express.

He had read, somewhere on the holonet, that it wasn’t uncommon for an expecting parent to _pop_ rather suddenly, seemingly growing overnight.  He had avoided it thus far, the swell of his abdomen undeniable but still able to be hidden by artfully arranged robes, and he was grateful for that as he stepped off the transport and onto the reflecting floors of the Theed Hangar, flanked on one hand by Hux and on the other by Ghola Ren, who Kylo had recalled from one of the First Order’s Star Destroyers. Dressed in heavy robes to prevent anyone from reading her body language, Ghola surveyed the hangar with a blank expression, but Kylo knew that, as a Lorrdian, she would keep a close eye on their hosts, her ability to gauge the emotional states of others augmented by her use of the Force and invaluable for what they were about to attempt.

Looking at the group of palace dignitaries who had been sent to meet them, Kylo knew he had made the right choice in bringing her.

“Leader Ren,” one of them, a portly man with keen eyes and darker skin, said, stepping forward and bowing shallowly.  Ghola remained silent and still at his side, but Kylo could feel the warning pulse she sent him through the Force, and knew that this man was likely only civil because he felt he had no other choice, that the omission of Kylo’s full title was a deliberate way to sidestep something the man did not agree with. Kylo couldn’t let that hinder their efforts.  What began on Ossus would be continued on Naboo, and he had to secure the planet’s loyalty if their plan was to have any chance of success.  Naboo’s monarchy may not have been a hereditary one, but the royal title was always held by a member of one of the Royal Houses—houses Ben Solo, and now Kylo Ren, had a legitimate claim to.

“Governor Parnelli,” Hux said, his tone even, “the First Order is honoured to be received with hospitality by the renowned and peaceful planet of Naboo.”

Governor Parnelli smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  At his side, one of his accompanying representatives, a young man with neatly styled dark hair and rich robes, watched Kylo with undisguised curiosity, obvious only because of the stone faces the rest of the welcoming party and their guards sported.  Despite himself, and indulging in an odd compulsion, Kylo turned his head, meeting the young man’s gaze head on for a brief moment before he returned his attention to the governor.

“The Queen is graciously awaiting you in the throne room,” Parnelli said, pressing his hands together underneath the folds of his robes, and Kylo gave a brief nod to the small party he himself had brought, which, besides the presence of General Hux and Ghola, consisted of a few elite ‘troopers, who had forgone the more traditional white armour in favour of dark, reinforced wrappings and helmets.

“We are grateful for Naboo’s willingness to negotiate,” Kylo spoke at last. “The importance of what we have to say cannot be overstated, and I fear there is much for us to discuss.”

Parnelli nodded, and when he turned, gesturing with his hand, Kylo stepped forward, his loose robes swirling around his feet as he stepped up to the governor’s side, allowing Ghola, Hux, and the others to fall into step with the governor’s aids and guards as they walked through the hangar.

That the palace was grand could not be denied.  After spending so much of his life on starships, the high, cavernous ceilings of Theed Palace were strange to walk under, the expert craftsmanship that had gone into creating the palace obvious as they ascended a flight of beautifully carved steps, their footsteps echoing on the stone floors of the corridors. Parnelli seemed surprised when Kylo asked about the history of the palace, but after a brief pause he began to explain it, his face becoming more animated as he did so, his love of the planet and her people clear as they kept walking.  The man was still wary, Kylo didn’t need Ghola to tell him that, but by the time they arrived at the throne room Parnelli seemed less stiff, his introduction less filled with disgust as he pressed his hand to his chest and bowed to the young woman seated on Naboo’s throne.

“My lord, Queen Makani of the Naboo.”

Under the Empire, the monarchy had been temporarily abolished following the supposed betrayal of Naboo’s then-Queen, Apailana, who had been assassinated for harbouring Jedi.  When the Empire had been overthrown, and Leia Organa’s parentage eventually exposed to the masses, the monarchy had been restored, the planet doing its best to heal old hurts, to return to the days before the Empire.

_This was the true start of the Clone Wars,_ Kylo thought as he echoed the governor’s greeting.  Technically, there was nothing stating that he had to bow to the Queen, for in the eyes of the First Order and their supporters, Kylo far outranked her.  Still, something compelled him to show the respect her rank was due, and after a brief moment the Queen inclined his head graciously, the massive headpiece no doubt making the movement more difficult than she had made it look.

“Supreme Leader Ren,” she spoke, her voice young and clear, and Kylo wondered just how old she was under those layers of elaborate robes and stately makeup, even as he noted  _Ren_ , not truly his name but a title all of its own, something most weren't aware of.  “We welcome you to Naboo with open arms.”

Kylo’s mouth quirked into a small smile, ignoring the way his ankles and back ached as he stood on the hard, stone floor.  “No, you don’t, but you are gracious in your lie,” he said, watching as every collective back in the room stiffened, including Hux, who shot Kylo a warning look.  Only Ghola and the Queen seemed unaffected, but Kylo could sense the beginnings of fear wafting off the young monarch, knew he had to act fast to regain control of the situation.  “But we don’t blame you, Your Royal Highness, for your wariness.  You and the Republic have suffered a catastrophic loss at our hands, for which there are no words to cover, and here we are, with Star Destroyers orbiting your planet, demanding an audience.”

The ache in his body was beginning to grow more pronounced, but Kylo remained firm, even as he felt Ghola’s eyes slowly turn to him, cool and assessing. He could not let them see in him any weakness.

“Your Royal Highness, I am Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order.  With me is General Armitage Hux, commander of the First Order’s army.  We have come here in the hopes of securing Naboo’s loyalties—without further bloodshed.”

“You expect us to believe such sentiments after what happened to the Hosnian system?” the young man from the hangar said, his voice quiet but still conveying a great amount of pain.  “Billions of people, killed within moments, among them some of our own.  The Republic destroyed, with many planets on the Rim already conquered.”

They had expected this question, had practiced its answer.  “Many things were different under the previous Supreme Leader,” Hux said, doing an admirable job of hiding the disgust that stemmed from what Kylo knew Hux viewed as a betrayal of their technological accomplishments. “But he is dead, and we—"

“I killed him,” Kylo cut in simply, spilling the truth for an entire room of strangers to hear, never removing his eyes from the young Queen.

It was as though Kylo had pulled some sort of plug in the room, for almost instantly the members of the queen’s council began arguing amongst themselves while the Queen herself said silent in her throne, trying to listen to them all without removing her eyes from Kylo’s forcefully stilled form, his dark robes a contrast to the rich colours of the locals.  Kylo didn’t know how long the arguments were allowed to rage before, slowly, the Queen rose from her throne, and carefully walked around the stately desk to stand before him, uncaring that Kylo towered over her, even with the elaborate headdress that only partially hid a head full of red curls.  Around her, the room seemed to quiet, and the council seemed to hold their collective breaths before the Queen asked, her face determined: _“Why?”_

Kylo closed his eyes, ignoring the shocked, angry look he knew Hux was directing at him, and when he opened then all he could think to say was, “Have you ever felt the deaths of billions of people all at once?”

The Queen’s eyes widened, and the young aid stepped closer, as if drawn in by a web. Exhaling, Kylo continued.

“I felt them die.  That kind of large-scale death and destruction, it sends echoes through the Force, leaves wounds that cannot be easily healed, or forgotten.  My family has always been strong with the Force, and that was why Snoke, my predecessor, chose me, but he… miscalculated.  He could not be allowed to continue, and with Starkiller and Snoke both destroyed, it is my wish to rebuild anew, to fix my family’s failures.  To end the wars, the fighting, to bring about peace—as the people of Naboo value,” he added, inclining his head to Parnelli, who was watching with a stiff posture and puffed cheeks.  “We want the same things, Your Highness.  An end to the chaos.  Order.  Safety.  We would not subjugate you or your people, and we would protect you against any threat in return for your loyalties and all that entails.”

“If you truly wish such a thing, why not restore the Republic?” the young aid challenged.  “We’re a democracy, _Supreme Leader_ , and that title alone shows that you are not.”

Kylo and the Queen turned to look at the one man in one fluid movement, and Kylo cocked his head to the side, and when he spoke this time his words came out harsher, angrier than he had intended, aided by the flare of pain in his body.  “And what makes a democracy so much better?  What made the Republic better than what I am offering?  The illusion of progress, of fairness, of representation? When Naboo was starving, her people dying under the Trade Federation’s blockade, where was the Republic?” Kylo spoke, infusing every word he spoke with the Force.  “You were eventually freed, but through your own merits, your own actions and the actions of people willing to go against the Senate, while the Republic was content to sit around and dither and discuss things in an ill-functioning, corrupt _committee_.  That was the legacy of the Republic’s _democracy_ : an endless parade of well-dressed officials standing around and arguing, doing nothing while planets  _died_.”

The last word rang throughout the throne room, and Kylo fought to control his emotions even as the Force seemed to blanket the area, heavy and suffocating. “Decades ago, the Senate gave emergency powers to a Supreme _Chancellor_ , with no more interest in democracy beyond preserving its skeleton to appease the foolish pride of the systems it ruled.  If you truly think the Republic was fair to all its systems, then it is you I pity, for I wonder how such a corrupt system can continue to be supported after all this time, when less than thirty years after Leia Organa restored it, it was back to how it had acted before the Empire, having learned _nothing_ , when learning could have prevented its final destruction.  The Core Worlds languished in luxury while the Outer Rim, the Mid Rim, was left to suffer until it was convenient for the Republic to act, or resources were needed from the planets in question.  Slavery, thought to be abolished, flourished in the underworld of Republic systems while its people lived on in willing ignorance.  If you agree to ally yourself with the First Order, with _me_ , I can only promise to learn from the mistakes of our predecessors.  The last thing I want is for the galaxy to fall to more chaos.  Your planet would be left to govern itself, your systems and practices left in place, unmolested.  All I would ask is your loyalty, and your assistance and access to resources and trade routes, should the need arise.”

The room was quiet, and the weight of the room’s eyes made Kylo want to hunch inward, unused to the scrutiny.  Still, he held his ground, watching as Queen Makani slowly stepped back, her head lowered. “Your Royal Highness, and members of the esteemed Council of Naboo,” Kylo murmured, “you have no reason to believe me yet, this I know, so I come to you with a secret that I hope will add weight to my words, and show that I am coming to you under good faith.”

A murmur of assent rippled through the council, and the Queen nodded her head.  The aid was stood firm by her side, refusing the chair that Kylo knew must have been his.

“You know of the destruction of the planet of Alderaan,” he began, “under the Supreme Chancellor’s Empire.  You know how tirelessly Alderaan’s princess, Leia Organa, leader of the failed Resistance, fought to right that wrong.  The Elder Houses still recognize the sovereignty of Alderaan, and the weight of Organa’s title still carries on the colony planet established by Alderaanian survivors—just as they recognize the title of her son, Ben Solo, the last Prince of Alderaan.”  He paused. “If the First Order were truly trying to bring back the Empire in its entirety, as Organa claims, would her son stand with them?  Would he stand with people trying to resurrect the legacy of the people who had destroyed his mother’s home?”

“And how can you claim to speak for the prince?” the Queen asked.

Kylo drew in an audible breath.  “Because I am the prince.  I am Ben Solo.  And through my mother, I am also the grandson of Queen Padmé Amidala of the Naboo.”

 

* * *

 

In the wake of Kylo’s revelation, it had been agreed by those present that the Royal Advisory Council needed time to consult amongst itself, something Kylo was happy to let them do.  The seed had been planted, but more importantly, withdrawing from the throne room and leaving Ghola to listen to what she could meant that Kylo could return to his ship and rest, his ankles feeling like they had swollen to three times their size in a matter of an hour, his insulated robes, while appropriate for the coldness of space, making him swelter on a more temperate planet.

It was why, when the young aid accosted him on his way back to his ship, Kylo had to stop himself from snapping, from throwing the man across the room in a fit of pain and temper.

“Leader Ren,” he said, sounding vaguely out of breath.  “Please, wait.”

Something pulled at Kylo again, and despite the discomfort radiating throughout his entire body, he stopped, his small retinue stopping with him.  He had endured worse pain before, and he had no doubt that this child would cause him further physical pain before he was finally born.

The man was tall, not as tall as Kylo, though few were, and close up Kylo could see that his eyes were brown, his hair curling.

“My name is Sadri, sir,” he spoke, sounding more collected as he caught his breath.  “I am—I was—the Senator for this planet before the destruction of the Hosnian System.”

Kylo cocked his head to the side, unable to picture this young man representing Naboo—but then again, he supposed his own grandmother had likely been younger than him while serving her planet.  Naboo placed a great deal of emphasis on youth in its government, it seemed, but it wasn’t Kylo’s place to comment on it, not yet.  At his side, Hux frowned.

“Can we help you?” Hux said, tone clipped, but Kylo held up a hand, silencing him, curious despite himself.

“The Council might take awhile, sir, and I thought—and the Queen agreed—that perhaps you might wish to see some more of Naboo and the palace, if what you said was true.”

Kylo’s mouth quirked into a smile, more tired than he had wished.  “If what I said was true?  Which part of it?”

“About your grandmother.  About Queen Amidala.”  Sadri’s eyes had hardened, and _ah_ , there was the spark, the backbone, the one that Kylo could see serving him well in the Senate before its destruction.  Queen Makani may have ordered this as a goodwill gesture, but sending her Senator meant only one thing to Kylo: she didn’t want him out of her sight.  Slowly, Kylo unclenched his fists and reached up to brush aside a strand of hair that had decided to hang over his own eye, amused despite himself.

“You don’t look much like her,” Sadri murmured, and Kylo barked out a laugh that seemed to startle the young Senator, almost as much as it startled Hux.

“No,” Kylo agreed dryly, “not anymore.”

Sadri peered at him for a moment longer, holding Kylo’s gaze, as if looking for something.  “No,” he said then, “no.  I was wrong. You… you have her eyes, I think.”

For once, Kylo’s silence was because he had nothing to say.  _You have your mother’s eyes, your father’s chin, your grandfather’s darkness._ He had been told he had Leia Organa’s eyes many times in his life, large, brown things that seemed to betray his every emotion, but never once had there been anything to connect him to the grandmother he had never known, the grandmother whose identity had faded into the backdrops of history, a casualty of secrecy.

_“I love your eyes,”_ Hux had once groaned as he slid into the warmth of Kylo’s body, _“so expressive, just for me.”_

Carefully, Kylo cast a look at Hux, who was looking at Sadri as though he would like nothing more than to execute him with the nearest available weapon. To an outsider, it would have appeared as though Hux were perfectly calm, but Kylo recognized the curl of his lip, the way his hands formed into fists at his side, the way his nails would have been scraping against skin were it not for the gloves covering his fingers.   _Strange._

“How do you know that?” Kylo demanded.  Sadri just smiled.

“The Royal Houses of Naboo all know each other,” he said, “and we all know Queen Amidala.  If you would permit me, sir, it would be a pleasure to show you what I can before we reconvene.  And if you’ll permit me, Leader Ren, it would be even more of a pleasure to provide you with something a bit more suited to Naboo’s climate, and to show you to the accommodations being readied for you and your men.”

The words were said almost like a jest, but Kylo swallowed thickly.  The clothing worn by the nobility of Naboo was rich and billowy, made of intricate, and surprisingly delicate fabrics which could hide the bump while keeping him cool, but the idea of changing anywhere outside his secure room was enough to make him break out in a small sweat, which Sadri noticed and decided was due to the heavy, insulated robes Kylo wore.

“You’ve been in space a long time, right?” he said with a small smile of sympathy. “I’ll bet you’re sweltering.”

“I should not impose on your hospitality further than I already am,” Kylo deflected, but Sadri just shook his head.

“Please,” he said simply, and despite the warning bells in his head, and the tenseness of Hux’s posture, Kylo closed his eyes.

“All right.”

 

* * *

 

 

Despite Naboo’s luxurious climate, showing vast amounts of skin was not common in political settings, and were Kylo not over four months pregnant with the secret child of his ex-lover, he thought he could have appreciated the beautiful, well-tailored fabrics he had been presented with more, as well as the richly decorated room he had been shown to.  As it was, he had spent untold minutes standing in front of the full-length mirror surveying himself, thinking, with almost bitter hysteria, that this was the best he had been dressed since Organa had dumped little Ben Solo off with his uncle twenty years ago.

The garment was long, the dark, airy fabric lined through with purples and blues that shimmered in the light, and it fell to the floor in a surprisingly accurate estimation on the part of whoever had picked it out.  The sleeves, embroidered in silver by his hands, clung to his arms, and a diamond-shape cutout on each side exposed his both his shoulders, though that was the only bit of skin the clothing revealed.  It wasn’t an exact fit to his body, and for that Kylo was grateful. They had overestimated his size slightly, and as a result where the clothing might have otherwise snagged over his belly, the dark fabrics instead worked to conceal it, and Kylo could admit, in the privacy of the temporary room he’d been given to change in, that he was already happier to no longer be sweltering in his old robes.

Now, as they walked through the Theed Palace complex, Kylo found himself wondering just how many times his grandmother had walked this same path—and if Anakin Skywalker had ever walked them with her.  Beside him, the young Senator was chatting, and on his other side Hux was walking the walk of the damned, stiff-backed and sour-faced, having stubbornly decided to cling to his uniform, albeit minus the greatcoat.  Every so often Kylo caught Hux levelling the Senator with a look of barely-concealed hostility, but then his face would shutter back into a neutral state.  If Sadri was aware, and Kylo doubted he was, he was tactful enough to ignore it, telling Kylo about the Royal Houses, about Amidala’s legacy; about how much she and her tireless efforts on behalf of peace and prosperity had meant to the government and the people of Naboo.

Strange, Kylo allowed himself to think, that his mother and uncle had never sought out their grandmother’s legacy, her history, her past.  Were he more charitable, he might have granted that perhaps they had been running from an unwanted legacy too, but there was no charity when he was the abandoned, wounded result of their cowardice, their mistakes.  They had made their choices and left him to suffer the results, and he would be a victim no more.

Kylo let out a low exhale as he felt the babe begin a series of kicks, coinciding with the former senator’s explanation of Senator Amidala’s tireless efforts on behalf of the Republic during the Clone Wars, and continuing as Sadri brought them up to her death—“at the hands of the Jedi, we were told,” he said, rolling his shoulders in a stiff shrug.  “But we were told a lot of things by the Empire, and there was never an explanation for the missing child.  Doesn’t matter, I suppose, when even all these years later we have no real explanation.” He looked at Kylo then, and Kylo couldn’t stop himself from glancing briefly at Hux before he answered, “I wish I had something concrete to tell you, but Organa hid as much as she could from everyone, except…”

He paused, then turned to hold Sadri’s pointedly inquisitive gaze.  “The child—the children, they were… taken. Hidden from their father, after the death of their mother.  And if you were a senator, as you claim, then you will already know just who Leia Organa’s father was.”

“You never knew?”

Kylo smiled sardonically, feeling the babe execute a half-turn in his womb. “I found out when everyone else did, and had a number of private questions wordlessly answered in the aftermath.”  The way the fear in everyone’s eyes when they looked at him made sense, the intense way Luke had always focused on him, the way everyone had always told him to mind his emotions, to mind the darkness.  “A great scandal.  It destroyed Organa’s career, and my mother has never known quite what to do without a political cause to fight for, or a war to rage.”

Hux stepped up then, interjecting smoothly into the conversation, as if the revelation of Kylo’s lineage hadn’t been a shock to him, as if he himself had known longer than the days he’d been given to process the information. “Perhaps that is why the Resistance has failed so spectacularly,” he said while Kylo inclined his head and something within the senator’s robes beeped, the Force alerting him to the presence of Ghola and others before they appeared further down the path.  “After all,” Hux continued smoothly while the royal delegation made their way towards them, an almost idle note in his voice, as if he were truly thinking about his pitch for the first time, “Organa has been dealt many blows in the past decade.  I would not be surprised if her ability to lead and make decisions is somewhat compromised.”

Kylo hummed, as if he agreed, even as he laughed inwardly, bitter.  _No,_ he thought, _Organa was never one to let personal tragedies stand in the way of the cause, and the decisions she thought she had to make._   After all, in the end, she’d sacrificed everything to the wars she had been raised in by her adoptive father—including her family.  She wouldn’t let herself regret it, Kylo knew, just as he wouldn’t let himself regret the steps he was taking to destroy everything that she held dear. Her family—Luke, Han, _Ben_ —had always been second to whatever cause Leia Organa had to wage war on, and in the end, she had lost every single one of them one by one.

He hoped she thought it all worth it, wherever she was now.

“Your Royal Highness,” Hux greeted smoothly as the royal party drew near, the queen accompanied by the Governor and what appeared to be a few identically dressed handmaidens.  Queen Makani inclined her head towards them, the headdress giving her height among giants, and Kylo wondered if his grandmother had once worn similar things when this planet had been hers to rule.

“Supreme Leader Ren,” the Queen greeted, “General Hux.  I am pleased to see that you have been well taken care of.” Her mouth seemed to flicker, curving into something that seemed almost like a smile, but that was gone in an instant. “I fear we do not bring a concrete resolution to your proposal just yet, but such things take time to discuss.”

“We understand, of course,” Hux said, hands behind his back.

“The Royal Council and the noble houses of Naboo are prepared, however, to accept your claims as an official member of House Naberrie, and as a legitimate descendent of Padme Amidala,” Governor Parnelli said, and Kylo blinked, shocked, as he skimmed the man’s mind, at the waves of pleasure that seemed to emit from him.  “I see you have officially met the good senator—a cousin of yours, if I am not mistaken,” the Governor said, rubbing his chin as Kylo did his best not to immediately whip his head around to stare at Sadri, who only smiled and inclined his head, looking unflappably calm, as if the revelation were of no importance. Still, when Kylo skimmed his mind, he felt the satisfaction the senator felt, and wondered if it stemmed from having fooled them, or something else.

“Senator Sadri Naberrie, at your service,” the senator murmured, sweeping a shallow bow.  “A pleasure to welcome you into the folds of our family, Leader Ren.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you think he meant to play us a fool?” Hux hissed later as they boarded their shuttle, eyes sharp as he glanced back at where the young senator stood before the closing gangplank blocked the Theed Hangar from view.

“No,” Kylo replied after a long pause, exhaling as the shuttle took off, unhindered, and began its journey back to the _Harbinger._ They had been offered rooms for the night, but Kylo had declined, and he had left Ghola on the planet to monitor the situation and report back to him while he retreated to the comfort of his secured rooms.  The part of him that was a warrior, who had been shaped to continue on until he physically could not, balked at the very notion of resting, but the part of him that was a strategist—a survivalist, who could think and plan and plot despite the fact that Snoke and the others had treated him as little more than a mindless weapon to be pointed and fired—knew he had to conserve his energy, to rest where he could in preparation for the times where resting would not be an option. There would have been no resting on Naboo, a planet as saturated with ghosts as the dead space where Alderaan had once been, but he didn’t have to rest there to secure it.

The seed was already planted, and it would grow in time, whether the Queen of Naboo knew it or not.  Kylo would withdraw to the _Harbinger_ to rest, but there would be little true rest.  With this seed, the time for shadows had passed.  It was time to reveal Ben Organa to the galaxy, and to finally destroy the cracked foundations of Leia Organa’s crumbling platform.

Exhausted, his mind shifting back to the cousin he hadn’t known he possessed, Kylo listened with only partial attention as Hux tried to discern the motive behind the senator’s actions.

“His duplicity served no purpose,” Hux was saying, and for the first time since the _Supremacy_ Kylo let himself skim Hux’s surface emotions, surprised at the strength of the general’s animosity towards the senator.  “I wonder what it was he thought he’d find by withholding his name.”

Kylo hummed lowly, tugging at the fine materials that still adorned his body, remaining standing despite the ache in his feet, in his ankles, in his hips. When he turned his head Hux’s expression was cold and inscrutable, but his eyes were aflame with countless calculations—Kylo suspected they forever would be

“Answers,” Kylo said finally, responding to a question that had long gone stale in the recycled air of the shuttle.  “I think he was trying to find answers.”

 

* * *

 

 

Alone in his room, Kylo allowed himself to pour over his plans, sending multiple messages to his Knights to ensure they were all placed where they needed to be. Ghola’s reports on the Royal Advisory Council had come in as Kylo had stepped out of his ‘fresher, and reading them gave Kylo hope that the planted seed would grow to fruition, but anxiety still churned in his gut, whispering that they had to proceed faster, before their window of grace was over.

They would send another delegation to Naboo tomorrow, and for a moment he allowed himself to picture Hux heading them up, smooth and controlled and sharp in the uniform he refused to shed when Kylo was already forcing him and others in their organization to give up the tattered remains of their own Imperial legacy. They would give up far more by the time this was over, even if they didn’t know it yet, and Kylo wondered just how the old Imperialists in their ranks would fare once they realized that Kylo had no true intention of adhering to the legacy of the old Empire any more than he intended to restore the New Republic.

He also wondered how many of them would have to be removed before this was all over, and how he would do it in ways that would not prompt a devastating schism at a time when they needed to appear united, orderly.  These machinations had to be the solution, Kylo thought, _they_ had to be—if they could not hold their own ranks, then his plans were doomed before they could start, and he and his son would never truly be safe.

They had to be careful.  If they weren't, Kylo knew it would only be a matter of time before the cracks in his own foundation crumbled, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter might take some more time, since I will be very busy until the end of August, but I will do my best to get it out to you once I stop scrapping every draft of it. I also have a couple one-shot prequels for this series that I'm working on. Your comments are invaluable, so if you can, as a small fish I would love to hear everyone's thoughts on this chapter! As always, I can be found at [ciratonin.tumblr.com](http://ciratonin.tumblr.com/), so please feel free to drop by and chat with me! I also take requests ❤


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having made a tentative alliance with the Naboo, the new Supreme Leader turns his eyes to the Core Worlds, and the General stews.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves! I'm so very sorry for the wait. I was finishing one degree and starting another, all while movie countries (again), so between that and work I had little time and even less energy. Truthfully I don't even know if people are still following this story, but I greatly enjoy writing it, so hopefully it will be updated with some more frequency now that June is well under way.

He dreamed that night, a hazy thing, of spires and magnificent towers, of sights he’d seen and ones he had not.  A walk across the desert sand and a dry heat that stole the very air from his lungs, a quiet evening crouched around a fire in an old temple, a magnificent balcony overlooking calm waters bathed in moonlight.  At some point, the dream shifted, and Kylo found himself staring first at a familiar dark ceiling and then at Hux, his hair fallen out of its usual severe part, his brow sweaty as he laboured above Kylo, rocking into his body like he was home, like he never wanted to leave.

“Hux,” Kylo whispered, and Hux’s answer was a low groan and fingers that entwined themselves with Kylo’s above his head as Hux pressed him further into the mattress.

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s it,” Hux crooned, “you take me so well, like you were made for me.”

Kylo didn’t answer, closing his eyes and arching his back, and when he opened them again the dark durasteel walls and the endless expanse of stars were gone, in their place soft, rich furnishings and gossamer curtains that blew in an unfamiliar breeze.  And then there was Hux, in this unfamiliar room, bringing a gentle but firm hand to his face, touching him like Kylo was something to be cherished, protected, _loved_ as he came, dragging Kylo into an abyss of pleasure and contentedness that made him _ache_.

He awoke to an agonising hollowness in his chest and a slick feeling between his legs, the familiar sight of the stars outside his window greeting him as he slowly turned his head and pushed himself up until he was sitting, one leg drawn up as far as his distended abdomen would allow so that he could drape an arm around his knee and rest his head there, breathing.

_Foolish,_ he chastised himself, _stupid_. There had been a time where he would have woken from dreams and nightmares alike to the steadiness of Hux at his back, or against his chest; a familiar weight that was both grounding and so desperately needed that Kylo had felt shame the first time he experienced it. Sometimes he would even wake to soft fingers in his hair, or the hard press of a cock against his body, and though they had little time in those days before Starkiller he remembered stolen quickies in the morning that had left him feeling grounded until he was forced into Snoke’s presence once again.

Kylo exhaled, reaching out with the Force to feel his son, who slumbered peacefully below his breast, a piece of the past and an omen of the future.  Then, slowly, he lowered himself back to the mattress, trying to shift into a comfortable position, something he’d found almost impossible since the child had grown to the point where Kylo could no longer sleep comfortably on his stomach.

“At least you’re content, little bean,” he whispered with a tired sigh, turning onto his side and pressing his face into one of the many pillows he’d set up around himself like a nest.  He would curse himself for it in the morning, but his mind, still foggy and sticky with sleep, began to conjure soothing pictures, and within moments Kylo was drifting back to sleep, his mind filled with images of translucent curtains and the taste of a sea breeze, Hux’s comforting presence at his back.

 

* * *

 

 They stayed in orbit over Naboo for a week longer, and from the heart of the _Harbinger_ Kylo oversaw the controlled leak of the information he had revealed to the Royal Council, carefully handing the matter off to Hux once he trusted that the General would be able to competently oversee the spread of propaganda.  It was inevitable that such a thing would get out, Hux had explained, and it was therefore imperative that they be the ones to control the flow of the information, the source of the rumours.  They would lose the element of surprise over planets such as Corellia and the colonies established by the survivors of Alderaan, but they could still play that to their advantage, and it was better to be in control than let someone from Naboo break the news incorrectly, or in a way that could be detrimental to their cause.

Not everyone on the Council was pleased with the thought of allying with the First Order, but as Kylo had shuttled back down to the planet’s surface on the third day, he’d been pleased, and also intrigued, to hear that some of them were not only _happy_ with the prospect of an alliance but strangely proud.  In Ghola’s florid descriptions Kylo saw the festering kernels that were the old family legacies, and in the Royal Houses of Naboo he saw the beginnings of a fierce pride that stemmed from political high-risers originating, in a way, from their home planet, and if they were careful, that was something they could use to gain control of a planet who only valued democracy in theory, if not in practice.

After all, Kylo thought as he accompanied Senator Sadri Naberrie and a dressed-down pair of elite ‘troopers, what use was a democracy truly if the only candidates for rule stemmed from an established group of ruling, elite families? No, the Naboo were not as committed as they liked to appear, and that was something that he could use at a later date, if need be.

For now, Kylo allowed himself to be led, allowed the young senator to tell him about the grandmother he’d never known, the woman whose ceaseless fight had been lost to history.  He’d been surprised at Sadri’s insistence that he be shown the planet Padmé Amidala had once governed, but only by the fact that Sadri himself had gotten it into his head to play tour guide.  The garments he’d been provided with had been a further surprise, especially as they had not come from Sadri himself, but rather from an ageing member of House Riviere, who had taken it upon herself to secure his measurements from Ghola and present them to him with a sniff that belied the spark of pride he saw in her sharp eyes when he accepted them.

_“Some colour for you, Supreme Leader,”_ she’d said almost imperiously.  _“And some heritage.”_

They fit him well, and it had been a relief that Ghola had ensured that the robes were not tailored too tightly, allowing the airy fabrics to conceal his changing shape.  Still, not wearing black after so long had been a shock, and Kylo had stared in the mirror at the brilliant patterns shot through the dark gold fabrics, wanting to hate it.  When he had still been Ben Solo, he had always avoided anything that would require him to dress like the prince and the son of a senator that he was supposed to be, and when he’d first seen the gold he hadn’t been able to stop himself from thinking about Snoke.  It was a relief that that golds of this outfit were darker and intricately patterned, mixed with other shades and colours to produce a pleasing, almost effortlessly regal effect that Kylo was sure he did not possess on his own.  The sheer, black wrap that accompanied the outfit was also a relief to him, and he had softly marvelled at the rich fabric as he draped it around himself, admiring how the gold thread laced throughout it seemed to shimmer when he moved.

It was… _strange_ , really, to feel vanity—something Snoke had sworn to eradicate from his young apprentice—especially when he knew that appearance-wise, there was little to be vain about.  The scar that bisected his face drew eyes even now, but he ignored it, the way he ignored all of the lingering looks he received.

Still, to his relief, once they had left the capital there had been far fewer stares.  His guard had been wary to allow Sadri to take them outside of Theed, but Kylo had allowed it with a twitch of his mouth.  After all, it was no exaggeration to say that Kylo himself was one of the most dangerous things on this planet.  If Snoke could not kill him, if _Hux_ could not, then he would not be lucky enough to meet his end on a planet like Naboo, not unless they had another rogue Jedi or Sith Lord stashed somewhere in the rolling hills their speeder traversed over.

For a moment, he almost wished Hux were present.  Once, in a dream born of weakness, he had conjured images of a field much like this, of distant laughter and cold hands resting firmly on his covered body, but Hux was back on the _Harbinger_ , and Kylo’s only companions were Sadri and his proud words about Kylo’s grandmother, who had refused to leave their people to die at the hands of the Trade Federation; who had fought tirelessly for peace in a senate that listened only to greed, that fostered only corruption and negligence.

He had to admire her, even if her ideals were not ones he shared.  The continuing fight for peace, the love for a system that could not give it—Kylo could not believe in either of those. Ben had been a child born from a wartime victory, and Kylo knew that peace was always temporary.  In that, he supposed, he and Leia had agreed: there would always be another war, another fight.  But that didn’t mean he had to look for conflict, or dedicate his life to upholding a broken system like she had; it didn’t mean he had to make the same mistakes as the rest of his family.

He hadn’t wanted to get involved in politics. He was a weapon, not a senator, but it was time he learned to pull his own trigger, to direct his own blade. If he could do the legwork, then his son, perhaps, could enjoy a life that Kylo himself had never been allowed to have: one of stability, if not peace; of love, unconditional and fierce, the kind that his parents had claimed but never delivered, at least not until the end.

The thought of Han Solo made something seize in Kylo’s chest, and his sudden, sharp breath had Sadri glancing at him with concern.  Kylo waved it off, his stomach churning briefly, though his son lay still and content.  It was strange, he thought, how in the end, the absent father had been willing to fight and die _for_ his son, while the absent mother had only been willing to fight against him.  As a child, he’d wondered what he’d done to make his parents ignore him, fear him.  When they’d sent him off to Luke as a child, he’d wondered what he’d done to make them stop loving him.

He wondered, turning his head to look at the passing fields, if Leia had felt him the same way he felt his own son; if she had imagined something wonderful and then been forced to face the disappointment that had been the reality of the boy who would be Ben Solo.

“—Leader Ren?”

Kylo blinked, turning his head to look at Sadri, whose expression was both soft and amused.  “Am I boring you?”

“No,” Kylo said.  No apology fell from his lips, but with a sigh he continued, “I was merely thinking.”

“About?”

Kylo hummed, and decided to go for truth—it would do more good than harm. “My mother.  The things she never said to me, and the things she told me without having to speak at all.”  To outsiders, perhaps especially to a politician like Sadri, Kylo’s frankness might have seemed startling, but bluntness had always been his trade.  He spoke no lies, even if many believed he did, and he had never been particularly talented at evasion.  That had been another facet of Leia’s life, one he hadn’t wanted to share, and under Snoke, there had been no such thing as secrets; no such thing as lies.  There had only been brutal, vicious honesty, and the knowledge that nothing would remain hidden from his master for long if he suspected Kylo was withholding something important.

“Tell me about your family,” Kylo said after a brief moment of silence. The meadows were beginning to change, and he saw, somewhere in the distance, the glimmering waters of a lake and a towering cliff.  “Tell me about your parents.  Please.”

Sadri blinked, but he inclined his head, directing the speeder towards the lake. “My mother, Pooja, was a senator, like me,” he said after a brief moment.  “I didn’t succeed her directly, but she served the Imperial Senate.  I think it was hard for her.  She was loyal to the queen, but also sympathized with the Rebellion when word of it began to reach our planet, and though she never talked about it, my father once told me that it made things difficult for her. She always tried to do right by us, though.  Still does. I suppose it wouldn’t surprise you to hear that she’s still formidable?”  He chuckled.  “She was Padmé’s niece, and when I was a boy she told us stories about her aunt, or at least what she could remember.  She was seven when Padmé died, and my grandmother was devastated.”

He paused long enough that Kylo turned his head, fixing him with a sharp look until Sadri spoke again.

“They want to meet you,” he said at last.  “My mother.  My grandmother.  My mother knew Leia Organa when they served the Imperial Senate together, though not as her cousin, but my grandmother wants to know her sister’s grandson.”

Kylo hissed out a breath.  The request shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did, but he still found himself at a loss for words, his throat working as he swallowed around the instant refusal that was mixing with an almost desperate need to pull something good from his legacy, something that could be his, the ability to know a family that had been denied to him by secrets and deceptions.

“Perhaps one day,” he said at last.  If Sadri noticed the scratchiness of his voice, he was polite enough not to comment.  Kylo could not run from his family forever, that he knew, and he didn’t want to—he would not be Leia Organa.  But that didn’t mean he had to face a Naberrie matriarch today, and so for the moment, he simply let himself sink into the moment, enjoying the temporary peace and calm of Naboo for as long as he possibly could.

 

* * *

 

Later, standing on the cliffs overlooking one of Naboo’s vast lakes, Sadri asked, “what was it like, being Leia Organa’s son?”  And Kylo, smile brittle, gossamer wrap plastering itself to his body in the wind, merely said, “lonely.”

 

* * *

 

The Council agreed to their terms eventually, and while many members of the First Order were jubilant, Kylo could sense discontent among some of the senior members of the hierarchy.  He had sent dispatches to his Knights ordering them to keep an eye on those they thought might pose a problem sooner rather than later, and then he had brought the matter to the attention of Hux, whose lip had curled at the mention of the old Imperials.

Hux may have once thought Kylo too simple for manipulation, but Kylo had learned a lot, and when he’d seen the spark in Hux’s eyes he’d known that he had another tool that he could use to keep Hux loyal to the Order, loyal to _him_.  Hux’s disdain for his father’s old colleagues was something Kylo had long been aware of, and if he had to play off of it to ensure Hux’s interests aligned with his own, he would.  He never forgot the blade up Hux’s sleeve, but just as Hux had once thought to use him as a weapon, pointed at his enemies, so too could Kylo use Hux.

That did not prevent the slightest twinge of guilt he felt at the prospect, but he had little choice.  Malcontent had the potential to fester and boil over into rebellion, and Kylo would not take that chance.

“What is our next course?” Hux asked him as they bent their heads together over a series of news broadcasts from Corellia, and from where Kylo stood he could see Hux’s mouth twist into a pleased smile as they scrolled through headlines screaming Kylo’s lineage to the galaxy, and what this might mean for the disgraced and silent Resistance leader.

“The Core Worlds,” Kylo had said, eyes catching on the way the blue light duelled with the shadows on Hux’s face.  The General looked less tired than he had after Starkiller, the bags under his eyes less pronounced, as Kylo’s own were, but he was not the man he had been before his beloved superweapon had been destroyed; before Kylo had woken on the floor of Snoke’s throne room to the glint of a blade and a blinding rage that still had yet to be matched.  “We will return to Naboo in time, and we will keep in close contact, but Organa would have heard of what we’ve done by now. We must not waste any more time here. Senator Naberrie, I think, can be trusted to advocate for us now, but I will be sending some trusted officers and negotiators to maintain a presence until everything is solidified, and one of my Knights will maintain a presence here as well.”

Hux’s face tightened at the mention of the senator.  “You are putting a lot of faith in this politician.  They’re known manipulators and are likely just using you to get what they want,” he said.

A muscle in Kylo’s face twitched, but his voice was only slightly thicker than usual when he replied: “It would not be the first time.  Do I not put faith in you as well, General?”

Hux didn’t flinch, but Kylo saw the flash in his eyes and couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face—not sharp, for nothing about Kylo Ren was ever truly sharp, despite his best efforts, but almost sad.  “If they are using me, then they will be dealt with, but for the moment, our goals align.  We are using them as much, if not more, than they are us.  Is that all, General, or do you have more orders that you’d like to question?”

Hux looked for all the world like he wanted to say something, but instead he merely swallowed, the effort clearly herculean, and gave a brief nod of his head.  Then: “Ren.”

Kylo just nodded, and this time, when Hux left the room, he didn’t allow himself to look up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is still reading, I would greatly appreciate any comments or indications that you are out there. As always, I can be found at [ciratonin.tumblr.com](https://ciratonin.tumblr.com/), so please feel free to drop by and chat with me! I also take requests ❤


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